Shadow of a Star
by theroguesgambit
Summary: In the aftermath of the final battle, Michael realizes there is a darker side to Star. As a new enemy rises, the only person he can turn to is the one he has the least reason in the world to trust. David/Michael HAITUS


A/N: There was so much left unsaid and unexplained in this movie that I just _had_ to create some fanfiction for it. So in this I've created my own explanations for Max's plan, Star's deception, the undeniable Michael/David chemistry, and, of course, the eternal question: is death by antlers possible? Enjoy.

**Shadow of a Star**  
_Chapter One_

Lucy flat out refused to spend the night in that house. She had grabbed the kids, all four of them, somehow, and shoved them all out the door and to her car before they could hope to protest. She almost brought the Frog boys along, despite their firm protests that they actually had a home to get back to, and they only managed to escape when Lucy became temporarily distracted by her father, who set up camp in the kitchen with a bottle of beer to ponder the possibilities of "stuffed vampire" and refused to vacate with the rest of them. She finally gave up when he started loudly wondering whether it would be inappropriate to preserve her deceased and decidedly ex-boyfriend to give her as a Christmas present.

Laddie had spent a few minutes celebrating his rediscovered humanity with Star, embracing her and spinning about the yard in her arms, before the stress of the past weeks caught up to him all at once and he fell asleep, almost in mid-giggle, in her arms. Sam was too excited about his new identity as a comic-book hero, not to mention the certainty of his brother's safety, to wait patiently in the car for the adults to finish arguing, and instead paced around the vehicle while sweeping his arms in exaggerated punches, reliving the night with increasingly grand heroics until anyone passing by would be left with the distinct impression that he had taken on four vampires single-handedly.

Only Michael was still. Michael, leaning against the passenger-side door to his mother's white and red car like a shadow against the sunset, arms tight across his chest, eyes locked almost unconsciously on the window into the house's wide living room where the remains of David lay.

He'd thought he would feel better now, now that the demon clawing its way out of him had been extinguished. He should be dancing in the yard with Star, kissing her, holding her, rejoicing in his renewed mortality. He should not_, _in the aftermath of the greatest victory in his life, be standing alone, feeling this _empty_.

"Hard to believe, isn't it?" Star's voice was soft as she approached him, cradling the sleeping Laddie in her arms. "I swear, for a while there I thought we were goners, Laddie and me. There's only so long you can resist that kind of temptation, you know?"

A significant part of him wanted to respond – to turn and face her, his beautiful gypsy, and tell her something sweet and perfect and comforting, something that wouldn't have sounded out of place coming from the romantic hero at the end of some cheap flick. _"You don't have to worry anymore, babe. It's all over now"_ and then he'd lean in to kiss her. It wouldn't be out of place – hell, she was probably expecting it after they'd slept together – but instead all he could do was tighten his jaw and narrow his eyes to stare more intently at the window.

What was holding his attention there? What made his gut twist at the thought of turning away? What voice in his head, growing stronger by the second, was urging him to go back into that house and kneel over the impaled corpse, to run a hand over that pale, perfect cheek and pray to whatever great power opposed God to take back what he had done? Back in the house he'd felt so convicted – anger, outrage, and betrayal eating him up inside until the thought of shoving David into those antlers hadn't just felt right, it had felt _good._

_"You were supposed to be my first. That's what David wanted…"_

It hit him again, that surge of betrayal, and a sudden _bang_, a dull throbbing in his hand, sank into his senses before he even registered moving. He unclenched his fist and glanced down where the door of the car now bore the smallest of dents, the hapless victim of that indescribable burning in his chest. Star jumped and took a small step back, though Michael got the impression that it was more in effort to protect Laddie than herself, and stared at him wordlessly. On the opposite side of the car Sam halted his mock battle with the midnight air and turned to frown at them as well.

"Hey Mike, you ok?"

_Ok?_

He'd been a pawn. He'd been pathetic. He'd been drawn in by those whispered words, that wild taste of freedom; flying, floating in a world of sensations he'd never even considered imagining… and then couldn't get enough of. And all that time he'd thought he'd had something. Even when he'd begun to suspect what was happening to him, when he'd savoured the righteous high that came with resisting the nearly consuming temptation to fall into their circle, to feed, to join with them in any and every way possible…

_"I don't want to kill you. Join us, Michael…"_

Before Star's revelation, he would have believed that. He might have even paused, considered it… hell, who was he kidding? He would never have even made it to this confrontation tonight if he hadn't had Star's painful truth burning in his head like a bright, blinding warning against anything and everything David had ever said to him. He'd never been a member of the clan. He was meant to be nothing more significant than Star's first kill.

And all the rest of it had just been David toying with him.

Suddenly, Michael had no trouble tearing his gaze away from the ruins of the house. He turned to rest his elbows against the hood of the car, and flashed a reassuring smile at his little brother and then over to Star, who seemed to have too much understanding in her dark eyes for him to be entirely comfortable with.

"Yeah, I'm fine; just eager to get the hell out of here. Forget this ever happened."

He didn't know how much they believed him, but he didn't have to find out. Just then his mother came storming out of the house – as much as the small and sweet-tempered woman could manage to "storm," in any case – muttering distinctly unpleasant things about her father under her breath, and ordered them all into the car. They would all be staying at the nearest motel until "the sinks and bathtub at least got all that blood out of them."

That was fine with Michael. It would be too soon if he ever saw this place again.

TBC


End file.
